


Synthesis

by XaviaAndromedovna



Category: (re)cycler - Lauren McLaughlin, Cycler - Lauren McLaughlin
Genre: (blame the book I'm just following the style), Angst, Bigender Character, Biphobia, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Intersex, Love Polygon, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Self-Acceptance, Self-Harm, Sharing a Body, Suicide Attempt, Transphobia, in which everyone finally learns to communicate their fucking feelings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: Tommy coming to Brooklyn should have been the beginning of his and Jill's Happily Ever After, but of course nothing comes easy for the McTeague twins.  Jack and Jill each juggle their three love interests as well as their relationship with each other, a relationship that is tested when a frightening possibility threatens the balance between them.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how it's already been a decade since this book series came out but whatever, watch me stroll in ten years late with an unnecessarily-long WIP because I just read the sequel this year and predictably had Feelings about it. Usually I try not to post WIPs but the library said I have no more renewals left so I'll have to settle for what I have until I can check the sequel out again. This will probably make 0% sense unless you've read both books. As always, no beta, no legal ownership, no clue why I do this to myself, I thought rare-pairs were Hell, welcome to rare fandom jail.

December 18

Jill

As I slowly open my eyes in the winter morning sunlight that peaks through my blinds, I cuddle further into the arm draped across me. Rattling around in the chest connected to it are vibrations that sound suspiciously like Tommy Knutson saying “I love you too.” But Tommy’s in San Francisco by now probably so I will this dream to linger a little longer before I am forced to deal with the fact that he hasn’t called and probably never will.

I turn to look at him and he smiles at me with shining eyes, fear and hope dancing equally across his face. “You came.”

“I realized I never should have left.” I lean in to kiss him and we lie there for a moment lazily but pointedly making out. Part of me wants to continue down this path but I know it’s deeply unhealthy to dwell on what can’t be.

“I don’t wanna wake up.”

He laughs. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

Confused, I sit up and realize we’re in Ramie’s bed. Ramie, who’s probably still in London, and whose suitcases look nothing like the blue duffel that has exploded across the floor. And it hits me that I’m already awake.

“You’re really here,” I whisper, trying not to cry.

“I am.” This time when I kiss him the passion and force behind it is overwhelming. I swing myself on top of him as we make up for months of lost time. But as things start to get more heated, Tommy gently pushes me away. “Jill, wait. Before we go any further, I need you to remember.”

“Remember what?” But as I process this strange request, a couple facts occur to me that make me scramble off of him. If I woke up in bed next to him, with neither of us wearing any clothes, then that means…

I immediately dive into Jack’s memories to figure out what could possibly have happened in the time between telling him I loved him and waking up in bed with him that would explain Jack being the one Tommy expected to see.


	2. It's My Life (Gonna Waste It on You)

December 14

Jack

I wake up to a pounding on the door. When I open it, Natalie shoves my phone into my hands with a scowl that is probably not intended to be sexy but is anyway. “I swear to God, Jack, I almost chucked your phone out the window. I don’t know who the fuck Tommy Knutson is but apparently he’s coming to see Jill, and Ian says he ‘really really needs to talk to either one of you’ so if you and your sister could deal with your boy drama please I could really use the sleep. Thanks.” She stalks back to her apartment without deigning to wait for a response.

Tommy stumbles out of Ramie’s room in just his boxers, long hair ruffled. My insides do something funny, probably due to the disturbing newness of a half-naked man roaming around the apartment who isn’t me. “Who was that?”

“Natalie, I left my phone with her last night.”

“Oh, well that explains why you didn’t pick up.” He runs his fingers through his hair absently as he pours water into the coffee maker. “So are you two…”

“No, well, we almost did, but I…”

When I don’t bother to finish my thought, Tommy looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, no offense.”

He snorts. “None taken, I’m sure one of your many other guy friends would be a much better listening partner.”

Huh, Tommy really does have the cheekbones for it, doesn’t he? Not that I give a shit about his cheekbones. I sigh exaggeratedly. “Fiiiine, I guess I should talk to a real live human about it or whatever, sorry Mannequin.” Mannequin wisely doesn’t respond while Tommy smiles in pleasant surprise. “I think… you see Jill and I… when Ramie and I broke up—”

“Whoa, what?!”

“Surprise…”

“Is that why you called me?”

“…yeah I guess”

Tommy comes over and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Shit, man, I’m sorry.” At any other point in my life I would have immediately shrugged his hand off of me, but after realizing last night that Tommy is more or less my best friend by process of elimination, its presence is oddly comforting. “Well I’m here now, what happened?”

I don’t want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing and still raw and I’ve never had much practice talking about my emotions (or anything) with people. But not talking about it obviously hasn’t been working, so… “Ramie was the first person besides Jill and my parents who knew I existed. And I guess for so long my entire identity has been wrapped up in my relationship to Jill and Ramie that when Ramie and I started growing apart…”

“You didn’t know who you were anymore.”

I look at him curiously. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember when I told Jill about Michael Tinsley?”

Vaguely. “That’s the first guy you kissed, right?”

“Yeah.” We both realize at the same time that his arm is still around my shoulder. He goes to sit down on the couch. “When I realized that what we were doing wasn’t regular friend behavior I had to completely re-evaluate how I saw myself. Granted, I had a lot more to go off of than you do and it wasn’t actually all that surprising once I thought about it, but it was an incredibly lonely feeling to realize if _you_ don’t even know who you are, then no one else will either.”

Huh. In my readings of Jill’s memories, Tommy always came off as incredibly confident about his sexuality and who he was, just jaded about other people’s reactions. But the more I think through those conversations and this new piece of information, the more I realize just how confusing and frustrating coming out has been for him, that even though he’s been with more people than Jill and me combined, he’s still going through this alone. Maybe Tommy and I have more in common than I thought.

“For most of my life I’ve felt like a freak because no matter how much I explain I don’t care about things like gender when I choose a partner, people either can’t or won’t understand. I think that’s what I like so much about you and Jill; you may not get the bi thing, but you know what it’s like to have to decide with each new person whether giving them the chance to reject you is worth it.”

I force out a laugh to cut the unnecessarily emotional atmosphere. “Maybe don’t lump Jill and I together when talking about how you feel about us.”

Tommy chuckles weakly but his eyes fall and I know instantly I said the wrong thing. “Do you mind if I shower?” He doesn’t wait for a response before turning towards the bathroom.

“Wait.” He stops but doesn’t look at me. “I don’t…” A huff of air escapes my lungs as I rub my hand across my face. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Y’know… girly heart-to-heart shit, it makes me nauseous.”

Tommy visibly debates arguing with me about three different possible ways what I said offends him before shaking his head and entering the bathroom. Having maxed out my tolerance for awkward conversations with Knutsack, I throw on some clothes and head out the door to scrounge up some breakfast for us. No sooner do I get down the stairs than my phone rings. It’s Larson. Again. I hit ignore.

By the time I return to the apartment Tommy’s hair is half-dry and he’s trying to find an ethernet port that doesn’t exist. “We don’t have internet, you have to steal it from the neighbors.” He abandons his laptop and joins me in the kitchen. “I got us bagels, I assume you’re an Everything guy?”

He snorts and confirms my suspicions by leaving the onion bagel to me. “How long’d it take you to come up with that one?”

“I paid extra just for the opportunity to make that joke, you’re welcome.”

“Not that I’m not enjoying this prime comedy,” Tommy snarks, “but since you aren’t exactly the person I was expecting to see I’m not really sure what we should do.”

It only occurs to me when he brings it up that yesterday was the beginning of my cycle. If Tommy wants to see Jill he’ll have to be here at least three more days (probably longer given how irregular we’ve been), which means three days of figuring out just how to pass the time with my alter-ego’s quasi-ex-boyfriend.

“Beats me, I just started so you’re stuck with me a while. Y’know, unless you disappear into the sunset again.”

He smirks. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Opposite, actually, do you know what Jill’d do to me if I let you leave?”

This time he responds with an actual laugh. “She’d never forgive either of us. So did you have any plans for today?”

“Not really, honestly I was planning on wallowing in self-pity all cycle so thanks for the save, dude.” He takes an exaggerated bow, almost dropping his bagel. “Nerd.”

“Well then I guess that just means you have to show me around the City.”

Not exactly something I expected to do in my life, but even more unexpected is how exciting I find the idea. We end up following the path of my own first day in New York, through the meat-scented streets of Greenpoint to McCarren Park, only with Tommy in tow it takes longer because we somehow end up just walking around the park talking. He tells me about his roadtrip but I can tell he’s left a couple things out. Which is fine, a man’s entitled to his secrets, and now that Jill’s abandoned Plan B anything he says to me could get back to her anyway.

Eventually we walk past Dexter’s, and I debate whether or not we should go in. Pros, it’s central to many of Jill’s and my stories, he and Joel would get along well, food. Cons, well… Peering not-so-subtly through the windows, I don’t see any indications that my new fan club is there, so I lead Tommy through the doors and hope for the best. I introduce him to Joel, but stall out when trying to describe how I know him. Thankfully, Tommy fields that one. “I went to school with Jill and Ramie.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “But not Jack?”

Busted. Tommy and I share a look that hopefully came across more evaluative than panicked but I have to think of something fast so like an idiot I say, “oh I was in prison”.

“Really?”

“Well, juvie, I guess.”

Tommy defies Joel to question it when he shoots a glance towards him for confirmation. “Shit man, dare I ask what you were in for?”

“Umm… I guess ‘identity fraud’ would be the best way to describe it.”

“Don’t let my manager hear you say that,” he responds jokingly, thankfully ending the conversation by asking us what we want to drink.

“Good save,” Tommy grins.

“Yeah I didn’t really think that through, but hey maybe it’ll give me some mystery, and it’s not exactly a lie either.”

Tommy makes a noise in the affirmative. “Have you seen them since you left?”

“Yeah, they came up for Thanksgiving hoping to see Jill but after the first day they got me instead so they cut their trip short.”

“Ouch.”

“It wasn’t too bad actually, I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

“They shouldn’t have done that to you.” It takes a second to realize he doesn’t mean the trip.

“You’re really into the whole let’s-have-deep-conversations-about-our-traumas thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you, I mean this is like the longest we’ve ever spent time together.”

Right. I have memories of him going back years, and he’s met me maybe a handful of times. Joel brings our drinks over and I take a sip of mine before responding. “What d’you wanna know?”

He doesn’t answer, just shrugs and drinks his coffee. After a full minute of awkward silence, Tommy excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Now that I think about it, there’s not many questions he could really ask. Neither of us really care about boring stuff like “ _what’s your favorite color_ ” or whatever, and I only have a handful of experiences of my own I could talk about, many of which I can’t exactly discuss with him. For example, just how Jill and I got tied up in the chart business might not be my story to tell at the moment. Safe, non-personal topics it is then. I’m sure we have common ground _somewhere_ , right?

I’m so lost in thought about Tommy freaking Knutson that I don’t notice the approach of another guy behind me. “Hey Jack.”

As if by thinking about the chart I’ve summoned him, I turn around to see Larson of all people, which is precisely what I _didn’t_ want today. Fantastic. “What do you want.”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Well I don’t.”

Larson sits down anyway. “Just tell me how to fix it.”

“Why do you care?”

“I dunno, I just do.”

“She’s better off without you.”

“I want to understand.”

“Well you can’t.”

“Is this guy bothering you?”

Ladies and gentlemen, Tommy Knutson, apparently auditioning for my knight in shining armor, which is, you know, wasted on me seeing as I’m not into guys, but at the moment I’ll take what I can get. “He was just leaving, weren’t you Larson?”

Larson glances at Tommy funny like he’s realizing something, then gets out of the seat. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

“Neither do I, just let it go, dude.”

He shakes his head and walks out, hopefully for good.

“What was that about?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Tommy is still looking in the direction Larson stalked off in. “If I didn’t know any better…” He shakes the thought away without finishing it. “Where to next?”

I won’t bore you with the details but by the end of the next day Tommy and I are old friends. We’ve checked some things off his NYC to-do list, and one or two off mine as well. He’s actually a pretty cool guy once you get to know him, and I’ll admit most of my antipathy towards him had to do with the fact that Jill was so into him and that he’s—

Jill _is_ so into him. Present tense. It’s been so easy to forget that Tommy’s not actually here for me, he’s here for Jill. Tommy must sense the change in my demeanor when I remember this because he stops halfway through the story he’s telling to comment on it. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah, just trying to figure out how you ‘accidentally’ hug a cactus.” Nice save.

“Painfully,” he chuckles and continues his story.

After hitting up my favorite kielbasa place, we return to the apartment. It’s still a little early to turn in, so I suggest we watch a movie. Tommy picks something out of Jill and Ramie’s stack that looks a little chick-flicky for my tastes but we’ve got nothing better to do and he seems excited about it so we put it in. I make it about forty minutes into the movie until I hear Tommy’s voice from right next to me and feel a nudge on my side. I open my eyes to discover I’d fallen asleep. On Tommy’s shoulder. Well that’s embarrassing.

“Sorry, dude, my bad. You should have woke me up.” I grimace at the drool on his shirt.

He laughs softly. “Why? Then I’d have to hear your running commentary the whole time.”

“I’m just stating facts, that elevator scene made no sense.”

He sighs like I’m the twentieth person he’s explained this to today. “It’s magical realism it’s not supposed to be taken literally.”

“Whatever, I’m sure Jill will be much more interested in discussing this snooze-fest, she loves melodramatic shit.”

He looks back at the screen. “That works too.”

Aaand there we are with the cryptic messages. Maybe that’s why he likes such weird movies—they work as enigmatically as Tommy Knutson’s brain. We’re still a little too close for my liking, so I stand up, stretch with an exaggerated yawn, and wish Tommy goodnight. I dream of dancing cacti and a talking elevator.

***

I don’t realize how effective Tommy’s been at helping me stop thinking about Ramie until I wake up the next morning and see a text from her. _Are you Jill yet?_

I really want to text back something witty and cutting, but honestly I don’t actually care anymore. I resolved to make this a Ramie-free cycle, and I’m going to hold myself to that promise. I leave my phone in my room and head off for the shower.

I return to two missed calls and three texts from Natalie. I don’t bother listening to her message, I just call her back. “Fucking finally! Where were you?”

“In the shower, what’s the big emergency?”

“Did you seriously not listen to my message? Whatever, basically the investors loved what we did with the first issue and they want us to get started on the next one, but this was only supposed to be a seasonal thing, like, four issues a year, now they want it to be monthly! How the fuck are we… I don’t even know. Basically I’m freaking out and I need my best contributor to bounce ideas off of. Can you meet me at my place in an hour?”

“Fiiiine,” I moan, hanging up before she can thank me for the fifteenth time. Tommy must be sleeping in today, so when it’s time to meet her I leave a note telling him he’s on his own for a while.

And that’s how I end up assistant editor of _Life Before the Apocalypse_. I edit and contribute to a lifestyle/fashion magazine, because somehow no matter what I do fashion has decided I’m its bitch. At first, that feeling I had looking in the mirror deciding on whether or not to buy an ascot dominates my thoughts as Natalie makes her pitch, but the more we talk about it the more it begins to morph into something I could see myself doing. It’s not like I have many other skills, and while this isn’t exactly hard-hitting news, scoring the chart did kinda make me feel like a hard-boiled investigative journalist in a black-and-white movie. Besides, this is something I can throw myself into and make my own. It’s mine, not Jill’s or Ramie’s or my parents’ but mine (and Natalie’s).

She puts me on the self-objectification piece to get us started but after that I’m gonna have to find something to keep our readers interested. I have no idea how to go about that. I discovered the last story at random so hopefully I can get lucky again just roaming around Brooklyn; stranger things have happened.

It’s late by the time I get back from Natalie’s. Tommy is getting dressed with Ramie’s door wide open. Show-off. “Hey Jack, how’d it go?”

“Weird, but good.” I notice the outfit he’s putting on. “Aww, getting all dressed up for me?”

He winks and returns his attention to the mirror. “I was thinking of hitting the town tonight.”

I scoff. “Dude, it’s a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, and this is New York, the City that Never Sleeps, even on a Tuesday.”

“Need I remind you we’re underage.”

“I’m sure I can find a way.” ‘I’. Not ‘we’.

“Wait, you mean you’re going alone?”

He looks at me sheepishly then. “I didn’t know how long you’d be at Natalie’s, and, well, I figured this is one trip you wouldn’t want to accompany me on.”

“Why?”

“Well, since I’m in the City I figured I should do the requisite pilgrimage to Stonewall—”

“What’s that?”

“It’s uhh, it’s a gay bar that basically kickstarted the gay rights movement in the U.S. in the ‘60s, and I figured I might as well make a night of it seeing as I’ve never been to one before.”

Oh dear God. “A gay bar.”

“Yeah, and I figured that would be your general reaction, so I thought I’d do this one solo. Like I said, I assumed you’d still be at Natalie’s.” The significant look he gives me at that communicates the implied _‘all night’_.

“I told you, Natalie and I aren’t like that.”

“None of my business,” he responds, going back to buttoning his shirt. Continuing to watch him get dressed feels a little weird so I go sit down on the couch for a second. Tommy—sweet, frustratingly enigmatic Tommy—is about to venture into the great big City, alone, with the express purpose of going to places with sexually-aroused guys who would love nothing more than to corrupt his small-town ass, which, if I remember correctly, has never actually been acquainted with a man in that sense. Not only that, but he assumes that I’m so repressed and homophobic or whatever that I would be too scared to step foot in a gay establishment, which is just insulting. I am totally secure in my sexuality, thank you very much, I mean, my best friend is bi for Christ’s sake! And what kind of friend would I be if I let him go on this journey alone. AND FURTHERMORE, what kind of _brother_ would I be if I didn’t look out for Tommy to ensure that he and my sister get to have their mushy gross love confessions of love and get back together?

Having made my decision, I stand up. “Well then I guess I better go shower.”

“Okay… why?”

“Because I’m coming with you, obviously.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I clearly have nothing better to do, and besides someone has to chaperone you and make sure some gay guy doesn’t sweep you off your feet. Jill would kill me if she got you here only for you to run off with someone else.”

Tommy chuckles and shakes his head as if I’m the most ridiculous person in his life, but he seems relieved so I made the right choice. I don’t put too much effort into my appearance, cause I’m not there to impress, just observe. I call out as I walk into the living room, “there’s not a dress code, is there?” Tommy gives me a double-take, and I’m not sure how to process that. “I doubt it, you look great.” He’s not looking too bad himself. Y’know, objectively speaking.

Before I know it Tommy and I are on the subway headed to the Village. The Stonewall Inn itself is way too packed to even attempt to get in, but he makes me take a picture of him in front of it anyway. We mosey our way to another bar with a similar clientele where we don’t even attempt to hide our ages. Inside, loud disco music is being sloppily danced to by horny shirtless guys; we’re definitely in the right place. I make a beeline for the bar, Tommy chuckling behind me. He tries to convince me to come out on the floor but I tell him to go have fun. He disappears into the crowd and I scope the place out.

A gaggle of drag queens is having a heated discussion at a table to the side. A bachelorette party is loudly singing off-key to the music. I’m studiously ignoring the two guys in the booth behind me who I’m pretty sure are jacking each other off. I’ve already turned down three invitations to dance and one nod in the general direction of the men’s bathroom.

The bartender hands me another drink before I’ve even finished the first one. “I didn’t order this.”

“Compliments of the gentleman over there.” A forty-something who looks uncomfortably like my actual father winks and raises his glass. I smile awkwardly and return my attention to the dance floor. Knutjob owes me sooo much for this.

The boy in question, meanwhile, is having the time of his life. Already he seems to be the object of every guy’s affection, which is strange because I mean sure everyone had a thing for him in high school, but I didn’t think he was actually _everyone’s_ type, like c’mon, he’s not _that_ hot. I would imagine.

A man only a few years older than me appears at my side. “You have good taste.”

“Excuse me?”

“The boy you’ve been making sad eyes at for the past five minutes. He’s certainly a looker.”

“I wasn’t ‘making sad eyes’, I’m just looking out for him.”

“Ah, of course, well then you won’t mind if I try my luck.”

“He’s taken,” I respond coolly.

“Is he now,” the guy purrs. “Well then you might want to put a ring on it because he seems quite popular out there.” Sure enough, the crowd of guys surrounding him has only increased since I last looked.

“Wha— not by me!”

The guy has the nerve to look confused. “Well, then it really isn’t your business, Rose, now is it? You snooze, you lose!” He saunters away before I can come up with a witty retort or explain for the tenth time that I’m straight. The only reason I have any opinion on who Tommy dances with is because he’s supposed to be getting back together with Jill, and anyway that’s not what I was doing! I was just protecting him from creeps, like any good friend would (however ineffectively). I have no interest in competing with a bunch of club queens for someone like—

I must be staring at Tommy for too long with a not-so-pleasant expression because he frowns and undulates his way through the crowd towards my place at the bar. He shimmers in the colored lights from the sweat dotting his face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” I suddenly remember the way Alvarez described Sasha’s M.O. and I can’t stop laughing because while I still think it’s a gross concept, if the collar fits… “you could say I was on dog patrol.”

Tommy laughs at me like I’m not making any sense, which I’m probably not. I still haven’t explained the chart to him. “I don’t want to know what that means, but I take it it’s nothing good.” He signals the bartender for a water.

“Not for me, maybe, but you’re welcome.”

He levels a faux-annoyed look at me. “Oh wait, lemme guess, you’re getting hit on by guys at a gay bar. How shocking.”

“No, well yes, actually, I’ll have you know a couple nice gentlemen have offered to buy me drinks but really I’ve been trying to thin the swarm surrounding you.”

Tommy downs the water and orders us both another drink. “What do you mean?”

I laugh incredulously. “Uhhh, the like five guys who’ve been lining up to dance with you all night?”

The bartender gives us our drinks and sure enough, they’re covered by two guys further down the bar. “I rest my case.”

“What’s wrong, worried you won’t be able to resist their masculine charms?”

“I’m just trying to get you home in one piece, preferably with all your clothes on.”

He rolls his eyes and leans against the bar, facing the dancefloor. “You know,” he says faux-casually, “there’s any easy way to solve both of your problems.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

He downs the last of his drink and takes a deep breath before holding his hand out to me.

“You’re joking.”

“Hey, if they think we’re together, they won’t hit on us as much.”

In the movies, this would be one of those dramatic moments that changes the entire course of the story, but this is just a guy dancing with his best friend until his sister can reclaim her boyfriend. I don’t know if it’s that rationalization that wins out, the alcohol, the logic of Tommy’s explanation, or the nervousness behind his smirk, (and those are the only factors I’m willing to entertain), but God help me I finish my drink and take his hand.

I’ve only been dancing once, and that was, well, a stressful night, and besides I don’t want to think about my ex-girlfriend right now. Some upbeat pop song I don’t recognize is blaring over the speakers as Tommy just lets go. He’s not a great dancer but that’s not the point, because he’s clearly enjoying himself and I try to match his energy as best I can. He laughs at my equally awkward attempts at movement and we’re just two idiots making fools of ourselves on the dance floor. Before I know it, some guy is rubbing his junk against me but before I can even react Tommy has spun me around and is now attached to my back, giving the guy the death glare. We stay like this a moment before I turn in his arms and lean in to shout in his ear. “If we’re doing this we’re doing it right.” I push his hips til he gets the hint and turns around so that I’m the big spoon, if that’s still what it’s called when you’re grinding.

Now at this point, I know what you’re probably thinking. ‘The gay agenda has claimed another innocent straight boy, won’t somebody think of the children?!’ But that’s not it at all, we’re just two friends dancing. And okay, _maybe_ the Viking is a little too excited about this, but that’s just physics, I mean c’mon. It’s hot in here and there’s flesh rhythmically pressing up against it, what did you expect? Unfortunately, Tommy starts to notice and he turns around so that we’re facing each other. And with our crotches pressed together like this, I can tell he’s just as hard.

Should I have seen this coming? Perhaps. Hell maybe I did, because I don’t seem to be pulling away. In fact when he smiles at me I smile back. We keep dancing like this for what feels like forever and that’s when it happens. I kiss him.

Yes, you read that right. _I_ kissed _him_.

I kissed a boy, and I liked it.

I wonder if guilt can trigger the transformation, because I feel a great weight settle in my stomach and my right arm is shaking. It would certainly be appropriate karmic retribution for kissing my sister’s not-boyfriend. But as I rush for the bathroom, I realize _both_ my arms are shaking, and nothing’s changing. This is just a regular old freak out. A few moments later, Tommy is knocking on the stall door. “Jack, you okay?” I don’t answer. “We don’t have to talk about it, just let me know you’re okay.” Am I okay? I have no freaking clue, because part of me feels great but the other part knows I’ve defo never felt this deeply mal. Oh God, maybe I am turning into my sister. “Jack, let’s just go home, okay? We can talk about it in the morning. Or not! Please, just talk to me.”

I can’t think. There’s too much in my brain, something has to go. Suddenly, I know what I have to do.

“I am all boy.” I whisper, envisioning the black hole. “I am all boy.”

“What? Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“She can’t know about this. Let me concentrate.”

“This is a bad idea,” he sing-songs, but he says nothing further, just waits patiently outside the stall door.

“I am all boy. I am all boy. I am all boy.” I have no practice in this, but it’s only one little detail I need to forget. As far as Jill will ever know, we went dancing, we got tired, we went home. End of story. When I exit the stall, Tommy smiles at me sadly and hands me my coat. We say nothing the entire ride back to Brooklyn, and when we enter the apartment I head straight for my bed, hoping that when I wake up this will all have been a dream.

***

The massive headache I’m nursing wins out against my desire to sleep for at least another four hours, so I venture out of my room towards the bathroom. Ramie’s door is shut so I’m assuming Tommy hasn’t woken up yet, which is just fine by me. I pop three ibuprofen and down some water before returning to my room. I put on some clothes, with the excuse that I need greasy diner food but really after last night I don’t want things to be any more awkward between us. As I amble over to the door, Tommy emerges, eyes half-shut and shirtless, naturally. “Why are we awake?”

“No idea, dude,” I groan. “Food?”

“God, yes,” he replies, heading back into the bedroom. This is good, we just pretend nothing happened, keep all conversation to a minimum, and ride out the rest of my cycle until Jill gets here, and then we never have to revisit this night ever again.

That plan lasts all the way to the diner and long enough to order food, before he lets out a long breath and a “soooo…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then there’s nothing to talk about,” he replies. “You were drunk. It happens.”

I should take it and run; Tommy is offering me the easiest way out of this, which is what I wanted right? So why the hell is my response, “but it doesn’t make any sense”?

“Look, Jack, this doesn’t need to be a crisis, alright? It was a really weird situation and you just got caught up in the moment. We’re fine.”

“I’m just so confused.” Seriously, why can’t I stop talking?!

“Oh no,” Tommy sighs. “Man, I’m sorry, I should never have taken you out with me, I knew it would be too much for you.”

“It was not ‘too much for me’, I am totally cool with gay people.”

“Who are you trying to convince here, Jack? Until recently you were petrified of me and certain I would try and seduce you or whatever. Hell, given the circumstances you probably still are.”

“Aren’t you?”

He puts his coffee cup down with forced calm. “No, I’m not trying to seduce you. If you’ll recall, I’m here for Jill, not you.”

“Right, no you’re right.” I knew this. I’ve reminded myself of this several times. It still stings to hear him say it so plainly. “So what, you can’t get her so you’ll take the next best thing?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tommy angry before, and I don’t really want to see it again. “I am trying very hard to be supportive right now but you need to stop taking your biphobic shit out on me. You invited yourself along, you took it upon yourself be my great defender against the gay hordes or whatever the fuck you thought you were accomplishing by sitting at the bar looking pissy, and need I remind you but you were the one who kis—”

“SHHHH!!!” I look around the diner but no one seems to be paying attention. “I don’t remember that part, remember?”

“For crying out loud,” Tommy mutters. Mercifully, the waiter brings our food and we eat in stony silence for some time. If anything, my hangover is getting worse, but it’s honestly probably just a headache from fighting with Tommy the whole time. The worst part is that I know he’s right; this is pretty much exclusively my mess. I want to blame him, or Jill, or hell even Ramie, but the truth is that for reasons unbeknownst to me, I, Jack McTeague, am slowly developing feelings for this guy. Which is stressful and confusing enough, but acting on those feelings when I don’t even know what they are is possibly the worst possible plan of action.

The waiter comes by. “Together or separate?”

“Separate,” Tommy spits before I can even register the question.

Forgetting the k— what happened isn’t enough. Jill will be able to tell Tommy and I have been fighting, and she’ll want to know what about. And if it’s just one symptom of a larger pattern, then there’s only so long I’d be able to hide this from her anyway. I summon the full memory of last night, every touch, every drunken thought, the feel of his lips against mine, his smile.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Tommy snaps his attention to me and stares at me for, well, ‘three and a half Mississippis’. The waiter, who had just returned with the bill, turns pointedly from us with his eyebrows raised. Welp, he’ll have a story for later.

I continue, eyes on the table. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Would you like a list, or was that rhetorical?”

I can tell he’s still pissed but he’s smirking so I huff out a laugh. “Ass.”

“Look, I get this is hard for you, but you’re completely overthinking this. Maybe you’re into me, maybe you’re not. Maybe you were just drunk, maybe it’s just spillage from Jill, maybe I’m the closest thing you have to a friend right now and that’s screwing with you. Maybe it’s residual Ramie drama, maybe it’s—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, my life is a mess.”

“But _regardless_ , it doesn’t actually matter because it’s just a thing that happened. The real issue is whether or not you want to do it again.” He’s sipping his coffee like he didn’t just make a pass at me. Maybe he didn’t though, because he does a double take as if just now realizing what he said. Nonetheless, I jolt up and place some cash on the table. “Jack, wait!”

He makes to stand up but I put my hand on his shoulder. “I need some time alone, to think.”

He takes my hand in his. “Just be gentle with yourself.”

It is still the middle of December so walking aimlessly around Brooklyn wasn’t my best idea but then again I’m evidently pretty short on those so it feels appropriate. I’d said I wanted time to think but I spend most of my walk not thinking. I know I’ll have to process this eventually, I just want one last day where I can still claim plausible deniability.

_Denial of what_ , a voice coyly asks, and it sounds suspiciously like Natalie. Coincidentally, my phone pings with a longwinded text from her, which is laughably low on my list of priorities right now. She and her convoluted messages can wait. So can Tommy’s for that matter. “ _The real issue is whether or not you want to do it again_.” Why can’t he ever just say things like a normal person?

If everything’s on schedule, which is never guaranteed anymore—add _that_ to the list of shit on the back burner—Jill should be here tomorrow anyway so mercifully I won’t have to think about this for a month. She’s probably gonna be pissed but that’s Tommy’s problem now not mine. And even then Tommy said it doesn’t have to be a thing, we drunkenly made out, big deal.

Wait wait wait. Did we _kiss_ or did we _make out_? Because those are two very different things. I force myself to revisit that moment yet again, but this time I need to remember what happened between initiating the kiss and panicking in the bathroom, which even at the time was somewhat fuzzy. I was in the bathroom. I got there by crossing the dance floor. Tommy was following me, but not very closely. I didn’t look back at him. I didn’t look at him at all after I pushed him off of me, where our legs had been intertwined and our hands had held each other and our tongues had met again and again.

I stop halfway through a crosswalk and have to be honked at to continue. Tommy kissed me back. Oh shit, that changes everything.

_“The real issue is whether or not you want to do it again.”_

In actuality, the issue is whether or not he does, because as I rush back to the apartment and toss open the door, I realize that I knew my answer the whole time.

“There’s just one thing I need to know.”

Tommy looks up at me from the couch mid-bite of a burger from the place a couple blocks down. He schools his obvious surprise at my entrance and focuses on swallowing before he responds. “Shoot.”

“Why did you kiss me back?”

He takes a long, slow sip of his soda then puts the empty cup on the table. “You noticed that, huh…”

“Why.”

I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the pain in his eyes as he silently begs me not to make him say it out loud. After too many Mississippis pass, he blinks and smiles almost sadly. “Why do you think?”

The next thing I know I’m sitting in Tommy Knutson’s lap. He tastes like ketchup and root beer but right now I don’t really care. His teeth graze my neck drawing a gasp out of me like some paperback heroine, which is only mildly embarrassing compared to how fast the Viking has come to full-mast. I get up off of him and take off my shirt. He starts to speak but I kiss him quiet. “Lie down,” I command. As he does, the hem of his shirt rides up. I push it up to his armpits and kiss my way down his chest. As I approach his waistband, he pulls me back up to face him.

“Take your time,” he whispers in my ear before nibbling it. I retaliate by running my tongue slowly along his jugular. Our mouths reconnect and I’m shamelessly rutting against him, which he doesn’t seem to mind if his boner is any indication. I finally get fed up with his shirt being in the way and lift it over his head. When he brings his arms back down his hands cup my ass, slowly roaming first over my jeans then under my boxers. We stay like this for a minute or so, before I look down into his heavy-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses.

I grin. “Neither do I.” It occurs to me that this is it; if we go any further it’ll be both of our first times with a guy. “Do you want to?”

He nods and continues kissing me, first on my lips, then down my neck towards my chest, slowly leading me overtop him. He lingers on my left nipple which holy hell apparently that works for me. When it starts to become too much I lean back. He sits up and pulls my hips towards him so that I’m kneeling on either side of him. He slowly unbuttons my jeans and slides them down. I suck in a breath when he takes me into his mouth. He takes his time getting used to the sensation and the mechanics before establishing a rhythm and I can already tell this won’t last long.

Now I’m sure you pervs want all the steamy gay details but long story short, we had a _lot_ of sex. We fucked on the couch, we fucked in the shower, we fucked in my bed, we even fucked in _Ramie_ ’s bed which is where we are now, my head on his chest and a familiar unrest in my abdomen. All at once I remember Jill. Jill, who is about to have a very rude awakening.

“Hey,” Tommy whispers into my hair. “Sleep now, freak out later.” He really does give the best advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Wasted Youth" by Fletcher


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